Awaken
by Princess Shireen
Summary: He dreams about her. She thinks about him. Though miles away from each other, it seems like an invisible thread is keeping them connected. Set after the events of Civil War.


A/N: I am new to writing stuff and this is my first shot on it so forgive me if I betrayed a few (or more) laws of correct tenses, grammar and usage. I'm open to any violent reactions anyway, it makes me a better person. Please review 'cause I'm planning on making it on another POV and so I know if it is possible to make it happen and I would really really really appreciate it *-3-* I just got inspired after re-watching Civil War and thought a lot about Pepperony being on break. -_-" Sorry for the long nonsense. So... here goes nothing.

A curtain of darkness loomed like a ghost over Malibu. The once cheerful clouds were now burdened with liquid weight. Misty billows hid the dazzling starlight. Even the rays of the silver moon battled the veil of the night. Streaks of lightning decorated the horizon every now and then; illuminating the despondent heavens for awhile, with angry claps of thunder punctuating every flicker on the sky.

Reflecting the depressing ambiance outside, the mansion was as empty and miserable. Like him.

He should have never come home.

The howling wind screamed and crashed against the window panels, rousing him awake. He groaned, tossed and turned in the four-poster bed, incapable to defy his untimely state of consciousness. The satin sheets felt awkwardly cool against his feverish skin. He rubbed his face, silently hoping that sleep would come and drag him down to dreamland again.

Moments passed and still unable to fight the mighty claws of wakefulness, he annoyingly got up, so abrupt that what was left of his wrecked world spiraled down in his already messed-up cranium. He took an unneeded lungful of air and blindly ambled to his bedroom window.

He felt sore everywhere. He was physically, emotionally, and mentally tormented. Guilt, anger, bewilderment, and hurt flowed through his veins. If he was still his previous self, a bottle of whiskey would have drowned all these unwanted emotions and he would have spent the night with a woman that was not _her._

The idea tempted him. But he was not his old self anymore. The thought of her just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest so he chose not to dive in further, or he might drown and never swim back up again.

He gazed, ironically awestruck, at the blankness above as the gloomy gray sky finally gave up. Tiny drops of cool rain water kissed the glass walls in front of him. He raised his ice cold hands and gingerly, as if it might break, touched the barrier that separates him from the brewing storm outside. A sudden flash of light made him jump, destroying the serene atmosphere surrounding him. A reflection of a man with a bruised and battered face stared back at him. He mentally cursed himself for his momentary vulnerability.

He glared furiously at the man behind the glass walls. Bile rose in his throat and he felt like a ticking bomb as his fists balled beside him.

 _You're an idiot!_

The noise of something breaking echoed in the quiet. His mind barely registered the sight of blood and pieces of shattered glass until he felt the stinging sensation on his right hand.

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips at the scene, accompanied by a more bitter taste in his mouth which crept down as a piercing twinge in his chest.

He did not know how he got into the car; let alone how he had the bandage around his throbbing hand.

He sped down the freeway with the top down, letting the rain wash away all his pain, only if it could.

A gust of chilly breeze pierced through his eyes and consequently blurred his vision. His protesting and bloodied hands gripped tighter to the steering wheel. His speedometer already read almost 100 miles per hour yet he still kept pushing on the pedal. He could hear her voice over the hum of the wind and the car engine, telling him to slow down. The more he picked up his speed, the more her voice got closer to his ears

 _Tony._

He could swear her voice was real, that he was not dreaming at all. He felt a gentle hand lay on his shoulder. And another over his hand that clutched on the wheel. He released a breath he did not know he was holding. He was shaking now. His eyes started to shed tears that were indiscernible in the rain.

 _Tony._

There it was again. More clear than the previous one. He dared to look at the source of that voice. But even before he could catch a glimpse of the redheaded woman beside him, a blinding light swallowed them both.

There was a loud ringing in his ears. A massive headache started to drill in his skull. He pried his eyes open and saw a blurry figure perched beside him. He blinked a few times to get rid of the fuzzy blindness. He tried to get up but the strange figure would not let him. He pushed and struggled against it, with all of his failing strength, until it budged and collapsed on the damp, muddy ground.

Two blue eyes stared back at him. He gasped in horror as he realized who the figure was. His brain went to a full breakdown as he untangled himself with her… her… he could not even say nor think about it.

He stood unsteadily and breathed heavily like all the life and air has been sucked out of his system. He could not flush out the hideous sight of her out of his mind.

His only escape was to run. So he did.

His feet already felt numb and weary. But he continued still. The only sounds he could recognize were his hurried footsteps and the desperate pounding of his heart that worked double-time to deliver oxygen to his already tired and swollen lungs.

He was screaming. He was screaming for was screaming despite the fact that he was certain not a soul could hear him.

His legs pleaded for rest. He could not sense his heartbeat anymore. And he was still running like the wind, afraid for the shadows of his nightmare to take hold of him. But they were faster. Almost immediately they had him. He gasped. He knew his heart would fail him anytime soon. Soon he would be cold, lifeless. They surrounded him, resembling a blanket of obscurity and dread. He was struggling to break free; tears escaped in pairs from his blood shut eyes.

Whispers filled his dizzy head. The whispers grew louder and clearer as the hum of his shrieks faded into the darkness. Fear and panic swallowed him. All he could do was to wait. Wait for the horror to consume him. Wait for his hallucination to end. Wait until he was nothing but a dull memory. He was shaking terribly, like an earthquake struck into his whole pulse grew weaker. His body went frozen. He closed his exhausted eyes, awaiting whispers went on until a familiar voice stood out and reached his voice. The heavenly voice was calling out to him. She was calling out to him. She was trying to save tried to open his eyes but an intense brightness engulfed him. Just then, everything went black. The void made him quiver, except he could still hear her blissful voice.

 _That voice. That heavenly voice._

A faint flash of moonlight blinded him as he resisted the heaviness in his lids. The voice was already shouting at him. He fought dreadfully hard to open his eyes as a pool of memories flooded throbbing head. His heartbeat was still drumming furiously against his rib cage. It took him a lot of courage to wrestle with his mentality before he became aware of waking up. He was still shuddering and crying at the same instance, however, instead of wicked shadows, an angelic silhouette was sitting next to him.

The angel, his angel, smiled her charming and reassuring smile at him like she always did; an indication that he was safe and sound. He smiled back at her, even though it was a painful grin. She whispered his name once more. Her voice reverberated in his ears, echoing the sweet tune of her accent.

He knew it has been a long horrid night. His head hurt so badly. He felt very cold and weak. And he was still crying. He blinked the salty dampness off his eyes. The second his vision turned lucid, he stared longingly at the fading angel's innocent facade.

He tried to reach her. Touch her. Hold her and never let go again. Whisper amorous words in her ears and say he loves her over and over until his voice went croaky.

But at the exact moment he almost got to her, she was already gone.

He gaped at the now empty space that was once her. His delusion merely aggravated the gaping hole in his chest, causing a rush of never forgotten memories to flood his skull.

A voice resonated on the walls of his bedroom. His brain hardly conceived the words being uttered to him.

… _blood pressure is elevated, Sir._

… _having a nightmare._

… _I suggest taking your prescribed medication._

He needed to be left alone with his thoughts. He needed to be alone.

 _Mute_

The voice stopped. Only his heavy breathing and the wild thumping of his heart was audible. The rain was still falling madly outside. Knees still feeble and body still shaking, he approached the glass walls of the guest room and looked intently at the mysterious horizon.

He sighed, fog forming against the smooth glass panes.

It was just a bad dream. She's just a dream now.

Somewhere, a thousand miles away from where he stood recovering from yet another nightmare, she was awake, too. She was restless; watching as the heavy downpour showered the chaotic streets beneath her.

Thinking about the day she walked out of the mansion and his life, wordlessly regretting that she did.


End file.
